


Straight On Till Morning

by FagurFiskur



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Peter Pan Fusion, Fantasy, Friendship, Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 06:22:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/732427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FagurFiskur/pseuds/FagurFiskur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All children grow up. This was a realization that Spock came to at an early age, one that would years later be challenged by a strange human boy with pointed ears and sky blue eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2011. Beta read by jademac2442.

All children grow up.

This was a realization Spock came to at an early age and one that, in hindsight, was perfectly obvious. Yet to Spock, to whom growing up meant a great deal more than it does to most children, it seemed almost cruel.

While Spock did not, could not, fully grasp the implications of adulthood, he knew it meant loss. It meant he needed to change who he was in order to fit in with the adult world. It scared him more than he was willing to admit, even to himself. To Spock, adulthood was like a looming disaster, as terrible as it was unavoidable.

Spock carried this fear of growing up with him for many years, although it was not something he thought of often. Even though he knew every day he grew up a little more, Spock dreaded the first milestone that would mark the end of his childhood.

It was almost ironic then, that in the end it was his actions that caused it.

It was a day like any other. Spock awoke and partook in his morning meditation. It was cut short by five point four minutes, as I-Chaya demanded his attention. Spock attended to his friend's needs and arrived at his learning institution on time. His concentration was, as always, impeccable but there was still a growing restlessness within him.

Afterwards, his peers approached Spock and taunted him as they often did, mocking his human heritage in hopes of gaining an emotional response from him. Spock's uneasiness grew but he did not let it affect him.

Then they insulted his mother.

And Spock snapped.

Later, he talked to his father of the incident. Although Sarek was not one to show emotion, Spock could sense the disappointment in his voice. He ducked his head in shame. He had behaved inexcusably in allowing himself to be provoked to violence and he had disappointed his father. But not even that gut-churning sensation could compare with what Spock felt at Sarek's next words:

"Spock, you are fully capable of deciding your own destiny. The question you face is: which path will you choose? This is something only you can decide."

Just like that, Spock's world was turned upside-down. This was it; the beginning of the end. This was the first milestone, from this day on he would no longer be a child. He was growing up.

As he went to bed that night, Spock skipped his evening meditation all together. Right then he did not feel Vulcan at all. He had lost control of his emotions and had yet to regain it. He felt very much human.

Humans did not meditate, they just went to sleep in the evening, with all the day's thoughts and regrets cluttering their minds, bursting through their subconscious as they dreamed.

Spock laid down on his bed. Maybe he would dream as well. He had never done so before. With a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, it was to a dirty face inches from his own and curious blue eyes staring into his.


	2. Chapter 2

Spock stared. Blue eyes stared back at him. He blinked, but the image did not go away. He closed his eyes tightly and opened them again. No change.

"Hey," the blue eyes whispered.

No, not the blue eyes. The boy attached to them. He looked to be around Spock's age, with messy blond hair and a faint splatter of freckles on his nose and cheeks. He was dressed in what appeared to be leaves.

And he was hovering above Spock's bed.

Spock blinked again. Was he dreaming? He had never dreamed before but he had always theorized that if he did, it would be about something logical or scientific. There was nothing logical about a strangely dressed (human?) boy hovering above his bed.

"Hello," Spock said, because he did not know what else to do.

The boy smiled. "Oh, good, you can talk. For a minute there I thought you were mute. What's your name?"

Spock was slightly taken aback by the other boy's brazen words. "My name is Spock," he replied. Perhaps if he played along, this strange dream would be over sooner. "What is your name?"

The boy looked affronted. "Don't you know?" He floated higher and Spock noted curiously that his ears were pointed like a Vulcan's. He hovered to the end of the bed and landed there, putting his hands on his hips and puffing out his chest. "I am Peter Pan."

It was obvious from his tone that he expected Spock to recognize his name and Spock felt almost sorry that he didn't. "Pardon me?"

Peter seemed to deflate. "You really don't know who I am, do you?

"Am I meant to?" Spock asked.

"I guess not," Peter said, still looking disappointed. "I suppose it's mostly humans who've heard of me. What are you, anyway?"

"I am Vulcan," Spock said coldly. "And it is hardly polite to ask people 'what they are'."

"Vulcan, huh?" Peter hummed, ignoring Spock's other comment. "Is that why you don't smile? Can you even think happy thoughts or is that too illogical?"

"It is not a question of whether I can think happy thoughts," Spock replied, affronted. "I have no need to do so."

Peter lifted his feet of the bed again and flew a circle around the room. "No need?" He laughed. "How else are you supposed to fly?"

Spock followed Peter around the room with his eyes, enchanted by the sight despite himself. "Thoughts cannot allow one to fly."

"Yes they can," Peter argued. "Happy thoughts lift your spirit and if they're happy enough they lift your body, too." He landed beside the bed, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Though I suppose you need some fairy dust, too."

"Fairy dust?" Spock inquired. He felt slightly foolish for doing so but if this was really a dream (and it had to be), it hardly mattered.

"Yeah," Peter said. He reached into a small pouch that was attatched to his clothing. "Normally Tink does this, but she's not talking to me right now."

That comment raised so many questions but Spock chose to focus on only one. "Who is Tink?"

"My fairy friend," Peter grinned. "This is hers." He pulled his closed fist out of his pouch and opened it to show Spock a handful of glitter. Then he blew it, right into Spock's face.

Spock crinkled his nose and screwed his eyes shut. The glitter fell gently on his face and hair and he felt a pleasant tingle where it touched his skin. Slowly, he opened his eyes, blinking a few times to get rid of the flakes which clung to his eyelashes.

"What was the purpose of this?" He asked Peter, annoyed.

"To help you fly, of course," Peter said joyfully.

Spock clenched his jaw. He had had enough. "It is impossible for me to fly," he said slowly, "with nothing to aid me but happy thoughts and glitter flakes."

"Fairy dust," Peter corrected.

"There is no such thing as-"

Peter leapt across the room and smacked his hand over Spock's mouth. "Don't say that," he said anxiously. "Every time you say that, a fairy dies."

Spock was beginning to feel angry. How could this be his dream? How could his mind create something so fantastical, so illogical, so… so childish, as this?

He stopped short in his thoughts. It was childish, wasn't it? No normal adult would come up with thoughts like this, thoughts of flying, of fairies. These were things only children were allowed to think about.

Peter lowered his hand, an understanding look on his face. "You  _can_  fly. You just have to believe you can. Fly and we'll leave this place together. Fly and come with me to Neverland, where you'll never, ever have to grow up."

Spock stared at Peter. This  _was_ a dream, it had to be. Never grow up? Impossible. All children grow up.

But if this was a dream, what could be the harm in leaving? He would wake up in his bed in the morning anyway. Nothing he did now mattered.

Peter grinned. He kicked himself off the ground and in one smooth movement, flew out the open window, the curtains billowing in his wake. Spock jumped out of his bed and ran after him, stopping short on the window sill. The drop was nearly ten feet, if he jumped, he could hurt himself severely.

 _You are dreaming_ , he reminded himself.  _Nothing you do can hurt you_.

But he couldn't go further. Peter, as if sensing his inner turmoil, turned around. "What's the hold up?" He asked. "Just go for it."

"I – cannot," Spock stuttered, feeling more unsure of himself than ever before.

Peter held out his hand. "You can," he encouraged. "Just remember to think happy thoughts."

Spock hesitated. For one moment, he forgot he was dreaming. He thought of everything he would be leaving behind if he went with Peter to Neverland. His schoolwork, his beloved companion I-Chaya, his parents… but also bullies, prejudice, responsibilities,  _growing up_.

Before he had time for second thought, Spock grabbed Peter's hand. Peter yanked and Spock was ungracefully hoisted into the air, and off they went. "Happy thoughts, Spock!"

But Spock couldn't think of anything happy. All he could think was that they were getting further and further away from the ground, that if Peter were to drop him now, he would die.

"Spock!" Peter shouted. "Forget about gravity, just let yourself feel for a moment."

Against his better instinct, Spock obeyed. He screwed his eyes shut and he let himself feel. The wind was warm and strong, blowing through his hair and clothes. His stomach was turning, but it was not unpleasant. It was actually… liberating. His whole body was suspended in thin air, his feet not touching the ground for the first time in his life.

He felt completely free.

Spock opened his eyes again and saw that his body was no longer dangling from Peter's hand. Instead, he was hovering next to him. Peter whooped.

"Now, off to Neverland!"

Something occurred to Spock. "Where is Neverland?"

Peter grinned. "I'm glad you asked. It's the second star to the right," he pointed at the sky, "and straight on till morning."

"That is Sirius," Spock said. "It is inhabitable to humanoids. Furthermore-"

"No furthermore," Peter interrupted. "Just trust me on this."

Spock decided against protesting further. It would be useless, this was all just a dream, anyway. Instead, he tightened his grip on Peter's hand and prepared himself for a long journey.


	3. Chapter 3

In the end, it was not a long journey at all. Peter and Spock reached Neverland just as the morning sun began its ascent and to Spock, even less time seemed to have passed than that. The young Vulcan would be pressed to remember how they had gotten there, although he could vaguely recall travelling past stars and planets at fantastic speeds.   
  
Neverland was, as it turned out, an island and no bigger than so that from a small distance, it could be viewed in its entirety. It was surrounded by still, turquoise waters and largely covered by luscious green forests, with yellow beaches and grey cliffs decorating its seaside. Spock had never seen any place so completely dominated by nature and it fascinated him. Neverland looked unspoiled, unexplored.   
  
"Cool, huh?" Peter asked, pulling Spock out of his thoughts.  
  
Spock's brow furrowed in confusion. "It appears quite warm from here."  
  
Peter laughed and Spock felt his face heat up. He may not be well versed in human expression but he knew when he was being laughed at.   
  
He did not have enough time to be properly affronted, however, because at that moment Peter spoke: "Do you want to try flying on your own?"  
  
"I am not certain..."  
  
Peter seemed to have decided that Spock was ready, because he let go of Spock's hand without a word of warning. For a few moments Spock hovered unassisted, until he made the unavoidable mistake of looking down.  
  
His vision swam before his eyes. He was more than a hundred feet in the air and although there was water below him and not solid land, that did not guarantee a safe landing.  
  
It suddenly occurred to Spock that he didn't even know how to swim, and then he was plummeting. The world blurred before his eyes and an involuntary scream tore itself from his lips. Just before he hit the water, two hands grabbed his and pulled him back into the sky with impossible grace.  
  
  
Spock's eyes were filled with tears and he couldn't see properly, but he could still hear Peter's now familiar laughter.   
Spock blinked a few times, making the tears in his eyes spill over and his vision clear. His blood boiled at the sight of Peter's laughing face. "Take me home, now," he demanded.  
  
Peter immediately stopped laughing. "What? Why?"  
  
"I have no interest in staying here if you keep mocking me."  
  
Now Peter appeared genuinely distressed. "I'm sorry, I'll stop," he promised. "But you can't go back yet, you haven’t seen the Indian village or the pirate ship or the mermaid lagoon!"  
  
Spock hesitated. He was very tempted to stay and explore Neverland, but even more than that, he found that he didn't want to hurt Peter by leaving. He was almost beginning to seem real to Spock.  
  
"Very well," Spock agreed. "Show me the Indian village, then."  
  
Peter smiled triumphantly, all signs of distress gone from his face. "Not yet. I have to show you the Hangman's Tree first, that's just how it's done."  
  
He pulled excitedly at Spock's hands and the young Vulcan, who still had little control of his flight, had no choice but to follow. Peter dragged him across the sea and the shores of Neverland and slowly pulled them lower, until they were flying so close to the trees that the tree tops brushed tickled their feet.  
  
"This is Neverwood," Peter explained. "The Hangman's Tree's at the end of it, by the east shore."   
  
Spock looked around. The forest around them expanded endlessly like an emerald sea, the trees so closely knit it was impossible to see the ground below. Neverland suddenly seemed hundreds of times bigger than it had before and Spock felt very lost. He tightened his grip on Peter’s hand unconsciously.  
  
Despite Neverwood’s apparent vastness, they quickly landed on the east shore, by the Hangman’s Tree. It was an old, seemingly dead tree with a trunk so thick, a small house could be fitted inside. When Peter opened a secret passage and ushered Spock inside the hollow trunk, Spock could see that that was precisely the Hangman’s Tree main allure – it was the home of the Lost Boys.  
  
“Or it used to be,” Peter said, rather bitterly. “They’ve all left. Decided they’d rather be grown-ups than to stay with m- in Neverland.”  
  
“I do not wish to grow up,” Spock admitted. He didn’t know why he’d done so, only that Peter had looked sad and he’d wanted to say something to make him happy again.   
  
And it worked. Peter’s whole disposition brightened. “Then you can stay here! You can fight pirates, swim with mermaids and hunt with Indians!”  
  
Spock frowned. “But I do not know how to do any of those things.”  
  
“I’ll teach you,” Peter declared. “You can’t be a proper Lost Boy if you don’t know how to hunt or fight.”  
  
His decision made, Peter searched the hide-out far and wide until he had found two swords he deemed acceptable. Spock felt a small thrill go through him at the sight of them. Vulcans were a peaceful race but then again, Spock was not entirely Vulcan. Perhaps it was time for him to embrace his human side, if only in this bizarre dream.  
  
“Catch,” Peter shouted and threw one of the swords at Spock. Spock barely managed to catch it before it landed on his foot. “En garde!”  
  
Spock did very badly at first, fumbling with his sword and tripping over his night robe. Peter had great fun with his inexperience, flying in frivolous circles around the hide-out and disarming Spock in ridiculously convoluted ways.  
  
Eventually, Spock’s natural grace overwhelmed his incompetence with the sword and in the end, he had managed to disarm Peter twice.  
  
“That was fun,” Peter laughed, twirling his sword skillfully before securing it in its scabbard.  
  
Spock put his sword gingerly down on the nearest table. “It was interesting,” he allowed. “You are quite skilled with a sword.”  
  
Peter grinned. “I am, aren’t I?”  
  
It was becoming clear to Spock that Peter had a very strong tendency towards arrogance. Whether this was Peter’s own personality or because he was human, Spock had yet determine. Perhaps it was a mix of both.  
  
“I believe you promised to teach me how to swim next,” Spock said primly.  
  
“That’s right, I did.” Peter grabbed Spock’s hand and pulled him up from the ground again. “Think you can fly on your own now?”  
  
Spock didn’t think so, but he didn’t want to disappoint Peter either, so he nodded. With some arm waving and much kicking, Spock managed to keep aloft by himself, although he couldn’t go quite as fast as Peter. This time he remembered not to look down.  
  
They flew together towards the mermaid lagoon. Spock had never heard of mermaids before but considering that he was meant to swim with them, he assumed they were some sort of fish.  
  
He was wrong. Somewhat.  
  
When they reached the mermaid lagoon, it was deserted. Peter dove straight into the water, while Spock landed on the shore and removed his robe. Some distance away he could see what appeared to be women, swimming in the water. Peter hollered at them and they shouted their greetings, laughing loudly at Peter’s antics.  
  
Spock treaded carefully into the water, pleasantly surprised at how warm it was.   
  
“Come on, Spock,” Peter said. “Wave to the mermaids!”  
  
Spock looked around but could only see the laughing women. “Do you mean them?” He asked, indicating the women.  
Peter seemed to be holding back laughter. “Yeah, them. Haven’t you ever heard of mermaids?”  
  
“I have not,” Spock admitted, slightly ashamed at his ignorance.  
  
“They’re ladies with fish tails instead of legs,” Peter explained and now that he had said it, Spock could see some of the women’s tails sticking out of the water. This dream was getting increasingly stranger. “They live in the ocean. How come you’ve heard of fairies but not of mermaids?”  
  
“My mother has mentioned fairies to me,” Spock said, “never mermaids.”  
  
Peter frowned. “Mother?”  
  
He said the word disdainfully, as if speaking of a disgusting bug or an unpleasant illness.   
  
"Yes, mother," Spock said defensively.  
  
Peter's mouth turned angrily and he looked for a moment like he wanted to say something else (most probably insulting). Instead he dove back into the water and when he resurfaced, he was at least twenty feet away.  
  
Spock looked after him for a few moments, then continued his slow trek through the water. It now reached his knees and to Spock's surprise, it did not feel unpleasant against his skin as it did when he was awake.   
  
Something brushed his foot and Spock looked down. Small, colorful fish were swimming around his legs, some of them stopping to nibble at Spock's toes. It caused a tingling feeling in his foot which travelled upwards and bubbled in his neck. A small sound escaped Spock, startling him.  
  
"Tickles?"  
  
Spock startled. Peter was back just a couple of feet away, only his head sticking out of the water.   
  
"Yes," Spock replied, a bit surprised at the realization. It had tickled and Spock, in response, had... laughed.  
  
He had laughed.  
  
"Don't just stand there," Peter said with a grin. "Jump into the water before I push you in!"  
  
Spock did not need to be told twice. With an uncharacteristic lack of grace he ran forward, tripping and finally falling into the water. He heard a burst of delighted laughter and realized that it came from him.   
  
Peter laughed too. "Let's swim."  
  
Spock wanted to protest but as soon as he tried, he found that swimming, like flying, came instinctually to him. Peter was of course a far superior swimmer, slipping through the waves as if he were born in the water, but Spock was quick to get the hang of it.   
  
They both swam further out to greet the mermaids, but each time they approached them, the mermaids laughed and swam just a few feet further. They continued this game for a while, the mermaids giggling and teasingly calling for the boys and Spock's heart hammering in his side every time he caught a glimpse of a tail.   
  
Soon, Peter grew bored and the two of them flew back to the shore. There they laid down in the warm sand and let the sun dry their skin.  
  
"They like to tease," Peter said of the mermaids. "But they can be real useful, too. Like warning me about Hook."  
Hook. This word, like mother, Peter said with great loathing but it also carried a sense of danger to it. Spock was curious, but ultimately decided not to ask. He wasn't ready to find out what could cause Peter to sound like that and he did not think that Peter was ready to tell him.  
  
Spock frowned. He had to stop this habit of referring to Peter as an actual person. When this dream ended (and it would, although it was beginning to drag on far longer than Spock had expected) he would cease to exist and Spock's life would continue uninterrupted. He would enjoy his time in Neverland but he must not get attached to anything. Least of all Peter.  
  
"Do you know how fairies are made?" Peter asked suddenly. Spock shook his head, eager to hear an explanation for the existance this highly illogical creature. "When the first baby laughed for the first time, its laugh broke into a thousand pieces. That was the beginning of fairies. Now ever time a baby laughs for the first time, a new fairy is born."  
  
Spock stared at Peter. Fairies... made from laughter? There was so much impossible and  _wrong_ about this statement, that Spock did not know where to begin.   
  
"Do you think a new fairy was born today?" Peter wondered. "When you laughed, I mean. It didn't sound like you'd done it before. The first laugh always sounds different."  
  
Spock had no answer to that. Somehow, the impossible was made possible in Neverland. It seemed to exist in a world of its own; opperating by laws and logic seperate from the rest of the universe. Perhaps it was not so illogical. If one could only figure out the laws Neverland  _did_ follow.  
  
Spock's eyelids drooped. The sun was warm on his skin and he felt so comfortable, so tired... Peter was speaking but Spock could not hear what he was saying. Something about hunting and Indians...  
  
Spock's eyes fell shut. He opened them what seemed like moments later and he was not lying on the golden shores of Neverland anymore.   
  
He was back in his bed. 


	4. Chapter 4

Spock was not disappointed. How could he be? He had known the entire time that he was dreaming; of course nothing as fantastical as Neverland or Peter Pan could exist in the real world.  
   
Maybe he was a bit disoriented, but that was to be expected. That would explain why he could not concentrate enough to complete his morning meditation. It was certainly not because he was disappointed.  
   
When Spock entered the dining room, his mother was sitting there alone. It was not uncommon; Sarek often left early for his work, but Spock found himself quietly relieved all the same. He wanted to ask his mother about dreams and he did not think his father would approve.  
   
"Good morning Spock," his mother said with a small smile and Spock found himself almost smiling back.  
   
"Good morning mother," he greeted. He sat down. "I was wondering if I might ask you something."  
   
Amanda looked slightly surprised. "Of course, Spock. Anything."  
   
"I want to know... about dreams." Spock inwardly cursed himself for his ineloquence but he didn't know how to word his curiosities any better. Perhaps if he had managed to meditate for a few minutes more...  
  
  
"Dreams," his mother mused. "Well, I’ll admit I don't know too much about it. Why we dream or how. It's not just humans that dream, I know that, but I also seem to recall that Vulcans do not."  
   
Spock hesitated. Should he inform his mother of his dream?  
   
No, he decided. He wanted to keep it to himself for now, at least until he had figured out more about it. It briefly crossed Spock’s mind that it wouldn't be fair to Peter either to share their adventures with his mother. He quickly dismissed it as a lingering effect of the dream.  
   
"You are correct," he said.  
   
"I suppose dreaming is illogical," his mother said, her eyes twinkling with amusement.  
   
"What do you usually dream of?" Spock asked before he could help himself.  
   
His mother considered it. "I rarely remember my dreams," she admitted. "They're always very vague, just a collection of images and emotions. It's that way for most people; although some have been known to have lucid dreams." She paused. "I do remember some recurring themes in my dreams; such as falling or running away from something."  
   
Spock's eyebrows furrowed. What she described sounded vastly different from his own dream. He could remember everything down to the last detail; every word spoken, every sensation felt. Perhaps it was due to his mostly Vulcan brain. Human minds were after all very disorganized, it should come as no surprise that someone (half)Vulcan  would dream more clearly and remember it better afterwards.  
   
"Why do you ask?" Amanda queried.  
   
Spock froze. "I was curious," he blurted.  
   
It was not necessarily a lie. More of an omission.  
   
His mother frowned. "Spock..."  
  
  
"I must prepare for my studies," Spock said suddenly and stood up.  
   
Were it possible, Spock would say he could feel his mother's worried gaze on his back as he retreated to his room.  
   
\---  
   
Spock arrived at the learning institute thirty-four seconds late that day. When he walked in, a hush fell over his peers and from the corner of his eye, Spock could see a few of them taking some steps back.  
   
They were scared, he realized. After all, it was only the previous day that Spock had attacked his classmate.  
   
He felt a strange ache in his chest and a sudden desire for Neverland, and for Peter. Perhaps they were only a dream, but a dream would be greatly preferable to this reality.  
   
Concentration proved difficult for the rest of the day but not impossible. When the time had almost come for his studies to end, Spock felt exhausted but also pleased. Pleased enough so that he would allow himself one last curiosity about his dream.  
   
"Computer," he commanded, "give me information on Peter Pan."  
   
"Peter Pan," the computer repeated. "A character created by Scottish novelist and playwright J. M. Barrie in 1902. A mischievous boy who can fly and magically refuses to grow up, Peter Pan spends his never-ending childhood adventuring on the small island of Neverland as the leader of his gang the-"  
   
"Enough," Spock said quietly.  
   
That strange ache in his chest was back. Peter was not real - of course he wasn't - but Spock had at least considered him his own invention. A preposterous idea, now that he knew better. How could a young Vulcan with no imagination create something so fantastical out of nothing? Clearly,  he had heard of Peter Pan when he was much younger and although his conscious mind had forgotten about it, it had laid dormant in his subconscious until now. Yes, that was a perfectly reasonable explanation.  
   
So why wouldn't the ache go away?  
   
\---  
   
That evening, Spock attempted to meditate for ten point six minutes, before giving up. He could no longer concentrate.  
   
He inhaled deeply. If he could not meditate, then he would go to sleep earlier and try again in the morning. It occurred briefly to him that no meditation meant that he might see Peter again, but it did not affect his decision.  
   
Not at all.  
   
\---  
   
"Spock?"  
   
Spock opened his eyes and for a moment, he thought he was staring into the clear, blue sky. Then he realized it was a pair of eyes.  
   
"Aren't you coming?" Peter asked.  
   
Spock  sat up in his bed and stared at the boy in front of him. He wasn't real, he wasn't even a creation of Spock's own imagination. So why did Spock feel such a strong connection with him?  
   
"Spock?"  
   
Wordlessly, Spock reached for Peter's hand. Peter grinned and grabbed Spock's hand, pulling him up from his bed and into the air.  
   
"Let's go!" Peter exclaimed. "Maybe now you won't go away so soon?"  
  
Spock smiled.


	5. Chapter 5

Spock had heard himself referred to as a child of two worlds often enough but never before had it been quite so appropriate. While he had always been divided between the Vulcan and human world, he was now likewise torn between two even more contrasting worlds - reality and dreaming.

  
Perhaps torn was not the right word. So far, Spock had been able to exist in both worlds with little effort. During the day, he belonged to reality and during the night, he slept and belonged to the world of dreams. Neither affected the other, or so Spock liked to believe.  And for a little while longer at least, he could afford to go on believing it.

  
But the simple fact of the matter, the one that Spock either could not or would not understand, was this: The more time he spent in Neverland, the less he wanted to leave. 

  
\---

  
“Today we’re fighting pirates,” Peter announced.

  
Spock nodded grimly in approval. He had already been swimming with mermaids and hunting with Native Americans (that Peter, in his childish ignorance, referred to as “Indians”) and had mastered both. Fighting pirates was the final frontier and now that Spock had learned to use his sword and fly at the same time, he was finally ready.

  
Peter started to pace the hideout. “Now, this won’t be like fighting with the Indians-”

  
“Native Americans,” Spock corrected.

  
“-they’re not our enemies,” Peter kept on, as if he hadn't heard Spock. “Besides, they don’t even use swords. But the pirates, they’re our enemies.  _And_ they’re good swordsmen.” He paused. “Not as good as me, maybe, but still very good. Definitely better than you.”

  
“We shall see,” Spock said, a little insulted. He knew that Peter was still a better swordsman than he, but he did not like to have it pointed out. 

  
"Do you have your sword?" Peter asked, oblivious to Spock's hurt feelings.

  
"Aye," Spock replied in a stilted voice. Peter had instructed him to use this word instead of 'affirmative', as that sounded too much like something a grown-up might say (a serious crime in Peter's opinion). Spock still wasn't used to it. It felt awkward on his lips, like speaking a foreign language without understanding it.

  
Peter smirked and kicked himself off into the air. "Let's go then. But remember - fight whoever you want, but leave Hook to me."

  
Spock was all too happy to do so. After hearing Peter mention that name for the third time, Spock had grown curious and had looked him up the next day. Captain James Hook was Peter's greatest enemy, a man without mercy or kindness. Spock had grown nervous despite himself when he read of the Captain's iron hook and blue eyes that turned blood-red when he was about to commit murder. Spock had hurriedly concluded his research and hadn't looked up information on Neverland or its occupants since then.

  
But never mind the past. In the present, two gangly boys flew silently over the water, quickly approaching The Jolly Roger. Hook's ship. 

  
Peter gestured wordlessly for Spock to position himself underneath the ship's plank, while he himself flew half way around the ship. 

  
Now that Spock was alone, he could not keep his hands from shaking. He gripped his sword tightly and repeated to himself a now familiar mantra: ' _you are dreaming, nothing can hurt you. You are dreaming, nothing can hurt you_.' It did little to quell his nervousness.

  
Suddenly, a crow rang from aboard the ship. Peter's signal!

  
Spock exhaled deeply, then shot upwards as if propelled by an unseen force, his sword raised and ready.

  
The sight that awaited him was almost comical. All around the ship's deck, the pirates were running around, searching for their weapons and tripping over each other's feet. Peter himself was flying and kicking his way through the crowd, leaving a trail of unconscious pirates in his wake. 

  
Spock joined the fray, allowing his instincts to take over. The first pirate in his way he hit with the butt of his sword, so the man tripped and fell overboard. Spock bit back a smile. This was exciting. This was fun. The first and only time Spock had fought before, it had been when he attacked his classmate and that experience was tainted by shame and guilt. But he had no reason to feel guilty now, hitting nameless and faceless pirates. These men weren't even real.

  
Then a horrible wail reached his ears. Spock's heart ached at the noise and he turned around, just in time to see Peter pulling his bloody sword from a pirate's chest. The pirate fell down dead.

  
Spock stared at the scene, his eyes wide and his body petrified. Fighting was one thing, but he had not been prepared for anyone dying.

  
"Pan!" cried a furious voice, shaking Spock out of his stupor. He tore his eyes away from the dead pirate and looked for the source of the cry. 

  
He didn't need to look for long. A tall, menacing figure had appeared on the ship's deck and at once, Spock knew it could be no one else but Captain James Hook. Underneath his furrowed brow glowered icy blue eyes and his mouth seemed permanently locked in a cruel sneer. 

  
"Come down here and fight me like a man, Pan," he shouted at Peter. 

  
Spock's eyes turned to the sky, where he saw his friend hovering still in the air. Something was wrong. Peter's insolent smirk was gone, replaced by an open mouth and a terrified expression.

  
His eyes met with Spock's and he seemed to recover somewhat. "Retreat!" he ordered.

  
Spock couldn't move. Peter, fortunately, could. He flew across the deck, just in time to evade Hook's sword, and grabbed Spock by the sleeve, dragging him away from the battle. The wind rushed in Spock's ear but he could still hear the pirates shouting after them, calling them scoundrels and cowards.

  
As soon as they reached the shore, Peter landed in the sand. Spock's legs buckled, so he sat down clumsily before he could fall. He was shivering all over.

  
"What's wrong?" Peter asked.

  
"You killed him," Spock replied in disbelief, his voice shaking like the rest of him. "You killed a man! Does that not concern you in the least?"

  
Peter looked shocked. He frowned, as if he were trying and failing to understand. "I killed a pirate," he said. He clearly did not see the problem.

  
"You killed a pirate," Spock repeated, hoping his voice would convey how horribly wrong it was. 

  
Peter still couldn't seem to grasp it. Then he smiled.

  
"But," he said cleverly, "he wasn't real. This is all a dream, remember? You said so yourself."

  
Spock was stunned. He hadn't remembered. From the moment the pirate wailed, Neverland had become real to him. But the realization that it was not did little to ease his mind.

  
"You are correct," he admitted. "But I still do not like killing. Not pirates or anyone else."

  
Peter's smile faded. Spock could tell he once again had trouble understanding but was much too proud to admit it.

  
"Promise you will not kill anyone else," he demanded when he grew impatient with Peter.

  
Peter opened his mouth to speak, then closed it and nodded reluctantly. "I promise."

  
He would forget this promise the following day but for now he meant it, and Spock was satisfied.

  
Shortly thereafter, Spock woke up in his bed on Vulcan. He laid there for several minutes, contemplating his dream and something occurred to him, something he hadn't thought to pay attention to before.

  
Aside from Peter and now Hook, no one in Neverland had any defining characteristics. No matter how close Spock got to them, their faces remained blurred and vague. It was as if the only real people in Neverland, aside from Spock himself, were Peter and Hook.

  
Spock closed his eyes in frustration. He was growing tired of having to constantly remind himself of this. The Native Americans, the pirates, Hook, none of them were real. Not even Peter.

  
...right?

  
\---

  
That day, Spock skipped both his morning and evening meditation.

  
\---

  
For a little while longer, all was well in Neverland. Peter did not kill anyone else and they did not face the pirates again in battle. By that point, Peter no longer needed to fetch Spock in his bed every evening. Now Spock woke up in Neverland, though in a different place every night so that Peter had to come looking for him. He woke up on the shore or in the woods and, on one memorable occasion, on top of a cloud. 

  
Then, one morning, something terrible happened.

  
Spock overslept.

  
Now, you must understand that at that point, Spock had overslept several times but never for more than a few seconds. Thus he had been able to pretend he was not troubled by it. This time, however, he slept so late that his mother came up to his bedroom, looking for him. When she saw he was still asleep, she grew worried and shook him. When he did not wake, she called for him.

  
Her voice reached him all the way to Neverland and Spock woke up.

  
"Darling," she sighed when he opened his eyes. "Why were you sleeping so tight?"

  
A lie made itself ready on Spock's lips but when he looked up and saw his mother's worried expression, it got stuck. "I-" He swallowed. "I was dreaming."

  
Amanda's eyes widened. "Dreaming?"

  
"Yes."

  
"How long have you been dreaming?"  She asked, a suspicion forming in her mind.

  
"For three weeks and four days," Spock answered. Now that he had begun to tell the truth, he couldn't seem to stop.

  
"Is that why you asked me about dreams?"

  
"Aye." Spock clamped his hand over his mouth, but it was too late.

  
Amanda's eyebrows flew upwards. "What did you just say?"

  
"...affermative," Spock answered meekly. 

  
"Spock, what have you been dreaming about?" 

  
Spock lowered his eyes, not wanting to look at his mother anymore. He never should have said anything. Every word felt like a betrayal to Peter and his chest was starting to ache. "I wish to keep it to myself."

  
His mother was quiet for a long  time. Then she sighed. "We need to talk to your father. He knows more about the Vulcan mind than I, perhaps he has an explanation for this."

  
Spock ground his teeth and said nothing. He already knew what his father's reaction would be; Sarek would never approve of something as illogical as dreaming. 

  
"You'll stay at home today," his mother decided. "At this point you will be late anyway, better to let them think you're sick. Get dressed and come down to breakfast soon, alright?"

  
Spock nodded without looking up at his mother. Why couldn't he have lied?

  
\---

  
Amanda stayed with Spock the whole day. She asked him about his studies and Spock dutifully replied. She asked him about his dreams and Spock evaded her questions, only once giving her a straight answer:

  
"I do not wish to share it."

  
But as much as Amanda wished to respect her son's privacy, her concern for him was stronger. Whatever he dreamed of it had a tight hold on him, tighter almost than the grip of reality itself. She could see it in his eyes, even when he was awake Spock was distant, his thoughts far away in an unknown land. 

  
Then Sarek came home and Amanda finally slipped up. She asked to speak with her husband in private, completely forgetting that for that to happen, her son would have to be alone.

  
As soon as the two of them had left, Spock ran back to his bedroom. He needed to fall asleep before they were done talking, so he could see Peter and Neverland at least one more time. He had no idea what his parents might do about his dreaming but he was certain they wouldn't allow it to continue.

  
He laid down on his bed and squeezed his eyes shut, but he could not go to sleep on command. In his desperation, Spock recalled an old earth trick for falling asleep: counting sheep. 

  
He counted one sheep, two sheep, three sheep, until the sheep began to resemble clouds, drifting away in the blue summer sky and the sky turned into a familiar pair of eyes. 

  
"You're back early," Peter noted curiously. 

  
Spock sat up. Strangely enough, he had woken up in one of the beds in Peter's hideout.

  
"I wished to come here one last time," he said solemnly. 

  
Peter's eyes widened. "What?" 

  
Spock told him of his situation. He had expected Peter to be shocked, perhaps even saddened but nothing could have prepared him for the betrayed look he received instead.

  
"You can't leave!" Peter exclaimed. "Why did you have to tell her? Mothers are nothing but trouble."

  
"I made no mention of Neverland," Spock defended himself. 

  
"That doesn't matter," Peter said. "They're going to make it so you never come back here. The next time you wake up, you'll leave forever and I'll be-" He cut himself off.

  
"Alone?" Spock ventured.

  
Peter set his jaw. "No. I won't be alone again because you're not leaving."

  
"I have no choice," Spock tried to explain.

  
"Sure you do." Peter's eyes were alight, as they always were when he had what he considered a brilliant idea. "If you don't wake up, they can't make you stop dreaming. You'll never have to leave again,  not even during the day."

  
"I - I cannot -" Spock stuttered but his voice lacked conviction. The thought had crossed his mind before, had often slipped through his thoughts in between waking and dreaming. It seemed like a good idea then, so why not now?

  
"Stay," Peter pleaded. "Stay with me in Neverland and never, ever grow up."

  
Spock hesitated. He looked at Peter, with his pointed ears and sky blue eyes and for a moment, he knew with absolute certainty that the boy in front of him was real. Neverland may be a dream but Peter, wonderful and imperfect as he was, could never be.

  
"I will stay."


	6. Chapter 6

Time had always been difficult to keep track of in Neverland but now it was impossible. Days passed in the blink of an eye or stretched on for what seemed like eternity and sometimes the sun would start to set, only to change her mind and rise again.  
  
The nights though, the nights were always long and cold and lonely. While the boys did not need sleep, Peter still insisted that they lie in their beds and pretend until the sun rose again. Spock spent every night staring at the ceiling, listening to Peter's loud, fake snores, and missing his parents terribly. Oftentimes, he considered returning home but he could no longer remember how. He had forgotten that he was dreaming.  
  
Then the sun inevitably rose again and the boys rushed out, hungry for new adventures. By noon, Spock had usually forgotten about his parents once again. Memories were hard to keep track of in Neverland. If one did not keep a close look on them, they would scatter. Spock had noticed that this especially applied to Peter, who could never retain memories from one day to the next.  
  
Only once did Spock think of his parents during the daytime. The Native Americans were teaching Peter and him how to dance and Spock felt quite ridiculous, hopping from one leg to the other. He briefly and scathingly thought: _'What would father say if he could see me now?'_ But then, he could not for the life of him picture his father's reaction. Would he be angry? Pleased? Puzzled?  
  
Then Peter pulled his hand to get him to join the group dance and Spock promptly forgot all about it. Something about Peter's presence drove away all other thought it Spock's mind. He was a selfish child, after all, and if he had Spock's attention in the first place, then he had to have all of it.  
  
Weeks, or perhaps months, passed. One golden afternoon, as Peter and Spock were diving for pearls by the shores of Neverland, a mermaid swam up to them. She grabbed Peter by the arm and whispered something in his ear.  
  
Peter turned excited eyes to Spock and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out but bubbles. He rolled his eyes in exasperation and shot upwards, Spock following on his heels.  
  
"She said the Jolly Roger was spotted nearby," Peter explained as soon as their heads surfaced. "And we haven't fought pirates in forever. It's perfect!"  
  
Spock nodded reluctantly in agreement. He had some qualms about fighting the pirates, but he couldn't for the life of him remember what they were. Was it because pirates scared him? Hardly, he'd faced down wild boars and never felt a twinge of fear. So what was it?  
  
Deciding not to dwell on it, Spock flew back to the Hangman's Tree with Peter and they fetched their swords.  
  
"Those arrogant sea dogs think they can mess with our territory," Peter cried as soon as he had his weapon in hand, only half-way serious. "We'll some 'em whatfor, won't we Spock? Frank Hook's gonna regret the day he ever crossed blades with me."  
  
Spock, who had up until now been swept away by Peter's exuberant speech, frowned. "I thought his name was James."  
  
"That's what I said," Peter replied quickly.  
  
"No, you did not," Spock countered. "You called him Frank."  
  
Peter raised his sword. "Are you calling me a liar?"  
  
"I am only stating the truth," Spock said coldly, raising his own to meet Peter's. "Do not fault me for your own mistake."  
  
For one tense moment they stood against each other, swords raised. Spock held his breath, neither wanting to strike nor back down first. To his relief, Peter lowered his sword.  
  
"So what if I called him Frank?" He spat. "It suits his ugly mug much better than James does, anyway. Now are we going to fight some pirates, or not?"  
  
"I think not," Spock said softly, all enthusiasm having left him. "I do not wish to fight anyone right now."  
  
At first, Peter looked shocked that Spock was actually backing out on him. Then he set his jaw. "Fine. I don't need you anyway, I can very well go by myself."  
  
Before Spock had room to protest, Peter crowed and flew off, leaving the young Vulcan standing alone in the middle of their hideout, mouth hanging open.  
  
Why had Peter gotten so angry? He'd been upset with Spock before but never over something so seemingly inconsequential. What had Spock done wrong?  
  
Nothing, he decided. Peter was the one to blame, getting upset over nothing and then running off at the first sign of confrontation.  
  
 _Go then,_  Spock thought bitterly as he sat down on his bed. _I have no need for the company of an oversensitive child._  
  
Still, he could not help but notice that without Peter, the hideout felt colder.  
  
\---  
  
The curious thing about Neverland's grip on Spock was that it depended on him remaining willingly oblivious. Peter's presence did that to him - distracted him and made him want to believe that his surroundings were real.  
  
But without Peter around to occupy his thoughts, clarity returned. Slowly, Spock began to remember his life before Neverland. He remembered why he'd gone to Neverland in the first place and why he'd eventually have to leave it. Most importantly, though, he remembered  _how_.  
  
His mind set, Spock flew hurriedly out of the hideout. He needed to find Peter. Whether Neverland was a dream or not, Spock was certain that Peter was real and if Spock were to leave, he couldn't do so without his friend.  
  
Spock arrived at the shore, already looking out for the Jolly Roger but he needn't have bothered. Peter stood in the sand, his eyes turned to the sea.  
  
Spock landed next to him, suddenly nervous. "Peter?"  
  
"That's not my real name," Peter said, so quietly that even Spock's Vulcan ears could barely hear him.  
  
Spock licked his lips, heart pounding in his side. Whatever he had been expecting, this was not it.  
  
Peter cast his gaze downwards. "I just... I didn't want to go fight the pirates alone, so I waited here in case you'd come. Then I started thinking."  
  
"And remembering," Spock supplied.  
  
Peter nodded.  
  
"What is your real name?" Spock asked.  
  
"I don't remember," Peter replied. His voice sounded strangely hoarse. Spock peered at his friend's face, half hidden in dirt and hair, and saw tears running from his eyes. "Spock, I can't remember my name."  
  
Spock reached out a hand and patted Peter's shoulder, feeling utterly useless. He had only witnessed one other person cry before and now he was as completely at loss as to what to do as he was then.  
  
Peter let out a choked whimper, and from there his quiet tears escalated into loud, messy sobs. He collapsed on his knees in the sand. Spock awkwardly sat down next to him, still keeping his hand on Peter's shaking shoulder.  
  
\---  
  
"I don't think this place is real."  
  
Spock looked up at those words. He had been sitting next to Peter for what seemed like hours, waiting for his friend to stop crying. Meanwhile, he had let his gaze drift elsewhere and after a while, he had almost forgotten that he wasn't alone.  
  
"I am certain it is not," he finally said.  
  
Peter's nose crinkled and for a moment he looked like he might start crying again. "You're real, aren't you? And I am." He grimaced. "And I think Frank is, too."  
  
Spock's brows furrowed. "Frank Hook?"  
  
"No, just Frank." Peter shivered. "I'm not sure who he is, though, but I know he's a bad man."  
  
Spock bit his lip, his stomach clenching uncomfortably. He didn't like the thought of Peter going back home to someone who might be as terrifying as James Hook.  
  
"How did we get here?" Peter asked suddenly.  
  
"We are dreaming," Spock replied.  
  
Peter nodded thoughtfully. "I thought we might be. I remember taking shorter trips to Neverland, during the nights. Then I... I did something so I wouldn't have to go back home again. I don't remember what."  
  
They fell silent and it was the heaviest silence Spock had ever experienced. Desperate to break it, he spoke:  
  
"We need to wake up."  
  
Peter's eyes widened. He shook his head wildly, looking terrified at the thought.  
  
"We cannot go on sleeping for the rest of our lives," Spock continued.  
  
"Yes, we can," Peter argued. "Who says we can't? Even if Neverland isn't real, why do we have to leave it? Don't we have fun here?"  
  
Spock frowned. "There is more to life than fun."  
  
"Not if you're a kid," Peter said. "Think about it. We don't have to ever grow up here. We can always stay little boys and always have fun." He stood up. "We can fly here, and swim, and fight with pirates and Indians. We have everything we need."  
  
"We do not have our families," Spock countered, standing up as well. "Nor do we have our futures. I am not eager to grow up, but I do not wish to become stagnant."  
  
Peter slammed his hands over his ears. "You're sounding like a grown-up already!"  
  
Spock reached out, gently pulling Peter's unresisting hands from his ears. The lost boy had tears in his eyes again. "I am waking up. Whether you do as well is your decision to make."  
  
Another heavy silence followed Spock's declaration. It was interrupted only by Peter's heavy breathing and the soft ocean breeze, but the two were nearly indistinguishable from each other. Peter had always been very in tune with Neverland, be it wind, water or land. It made Spock wonder just how long he had been there.  
  
"But what if I don't have a family?" Peter eventually asked. "What if I wake up and th-there's no one waiting for me?"  
  
Spock almost wished he were the type who could dispense empty words of comfort. If he were, he could assure Peter that of course he had a family, a family that had never stopped missing him since he was gone. But he was not, so instead he nervously took Peter's right hand in his.  
  
"I will be," he promised.  
  
Peter shook his head. "You don't even know my real name. How are you gonna find me?"  
  
"I do not know," Spock said honestly. "But I will. Even if it takes me fifty years."  
  
Peter threw himself at Spock. The young Vulcan returned the embrace a little stiffly, still unused to quite so much physical contact.  
  
"I'll wait for you," Peter whispered into the crook of Spock's neck. "Even if it does take you fifty years."  
  
They parted. Peter wiped his eyes dry, then frowned. "How do we wake up?"  
  
"I have a theory," Spock said. "If we wish to leave Neverland, we must simply leave."  
  
"Fly away, you mean?" Peter looked back at the island, looking torn. "Now?"  
  
"Now," Spock confirmed. "If we do not, I am afraid we will forget it again."  
  
Peter still looked uncertain, so Spock took the first step and kicked himself off the ground. Peter's eyes flitted between the island and Spock. He looked truly lost.  
  
Silently, Spock offered his hand. Without a moment's hesitation, Peter took it. When Spock pulled, however, Peter did not lift one inch.  
  
"Think happy thoughts," Spock reminded him.  
  
Peter nodded resolutely and squeezed Spock's hand. Slowly, he began to hover, a little precariously at first. Soon he seemed to gain confidence, though, and when Spock pulled again, they were both off.  
  
"Don't look down," Peter cautioned, making Spock's grin.  
  
"Then you must not look back," he advised.  
  
The wind blew wildly around them and Spock felt as if his entire world had been squeezed down into a tiny, narrow space. He closed his eyes and sped up, relishing the feeling of absolute freedom for what could be the last time.  
  
Then he realized that Peter's hand was gone.  
  
He started falling.  
  
\---  
  
He had only been asleep for three days.  
  
Three days was still enough for his mother to go almost sick with worry. It was enough for his father to reach out and  _embrace him_  when Spock first opened his eyes. It was more than enough for Spock to wake up in a hospital, hooked up to three different monitors and under constant surveillance of both a Vulcan healer and a human one.  
  
His mother asked him where he had been and Spock opened his mouth, fully intending to explain everything, but he stopped shorted when he found he couldn't. He could barely remember anything.  
  
There had been an island, right? And a strange feeling that set Spock's stomach aflutter even thinking about it. And a boy.  
  
Despite all he had forgotten, Spock could still remember the boy. Not who he was or where he'd come from, or even what his name was. But he'd had blue eyes. Like the sky. And a dirty face and pointed ears, even though Spock was fairly certain the boy had been human. Most importantly, Spock remembered his promise to the boy.  
  
 _I will be there. Even if it takes fifty years._  
  
But how could he, when he had not the slightest clue of where to find him?


	7. Chapter 7

Spock straightened out the hem of his uniform, something suspiciously like a smile playing at the left corner of his lips. He had spent the past four years working aboard the  _USS Reliant_  but now he was back at the Academy, this time as an instructor rather than as a student. While it was undeniably a good opportunity for Spock to expand his resume, that was not why he was in such a good mood.

 

In fact, Spock had no idea why he was in such a good mood. It would perhaps be somewhat disconcerting if he had not learned long ago that applying logic to his emotions was a futile exercise. 

 

Nevertheless, as the only Vulcan at the Academy Spock had an imagine to maintain, so before he stepped out of his office he made sure none of his good cheer or excitement was outwardly visible. Only someone who knew Spock very well could tell he was feeling anything at all.

 

As he still had thirty-three point seven minutes until his first class began, Spock took the opportunity to re-acquaint himself with the Academy grounds. His office was not in the main building so he would have to step outside anyway.

 

As soon as he reached the foyer, Spock felt an inexplicable ache in his chest. He had an urgent desire to go somewhere, although it was not clear where or why. Rather than question his instinct, Spock decided to follow it outside. The ache was strangely familiar, like a long-forgotten dream.

 

Spock’s heart sped in his side. He had not dreamed in years and unlike his waking life, his dreams had faded from his mind, had almost disappeared completely. All that remained was a boy and a promise. 

 

Spock was all but jogging now and when he saw the fountain standing proudly in the middle of the Academy’s campus, he knew it was his destination. He reached it in a matter of seconds and had to contain his disappointment when he saw no one there. He glanced at his reflection in the water, faint and distorted, and huffed in frustration.

 

Something tugged at Spock’s mind and he looked up, his eyes meeting with the sky blue eyes of a young man standing half-way across the campus. They both stared, neither wanting to break the contact established. Spock’s mouth dried. He knew those eyes. He knew that person.

  
The young man eventually turned to his companion standing next to him, who looked thoroughly puzzled at his friend’s behavior, and said something indistinguishable even to Spock’s Vulcan ears. Then he looked back to Spock and started to walk over.

  
As he walked, Spock glanced him quickly over, taking in everything he could. His ears were rounded, which seemed off to Spock even if the man was obviously human, and his hair was a golden shade of blond. 

  
He eventually reached the fountain and for a little while, neither of them said a word.

  
“Peter?” Spock finally inquired hesitantly. The name seemed both fitting and not, but he had nothing else to go on.

  
The man’s face broke into a brilliant grin. “Jim, actually. Jim Kirk.”

  
He held out his hand and Spock, who would usually never initiate contact with another being, grasped it without hesitation. For a moment he felt suspended into thin air, tethered down only by the hand in his. It was a strangely familiar sensation.

 

“I am Spock.”

 

THE END


End file.
